


Pregnant Omega John Ficlet

by Wolf_dog



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mpreg, Omega!John, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_dog/pseuds/Wolf_dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title says it all. Just something that came to mind and I had to type out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pregnant Omega John Ficlet

John stormed out of the hotel, hurt. Sherlock’s snarled words pounded around his head ‘ _I don’t need you to worry about me! I’m_ your _Alpha, John!”_ He took a few deep breaths once he was out in the cold, fresh air. That had been a bit too cold, even for Sherlock. Straightening his shoulders, John looked around. Surely there was a park around here somewhere that he could walk to. He needed to clear his head, get away from Sherlock for a bit. Before he walked away, he sighed and placed a hand on his belly. He wasn’t showing yet – hell, Sherlock didn’t even know yet. He had been meaning to tell him that he was pregnant, but they hadn’t had time. Once he had found out, Sherlock had told him about this exciting new case that had popped up, and after that they had just been too busy. Besides, he hadn’t been experiencing any mood swings, or morning sickness, or cravings yet. He could still hide it for a while longer. Perhaps until Sherlock had solved the case. Frowning, his hurt at Sherlock’s words returning, he shook his head and started walking, placing his hands in his pockets. Sherlock _may_ have noticed, however, how careful he was with his belly when he was walking around, or how he ate just a _tad_ more, and how he slept just a little longer. Maybe Sherlock had noticed that, but he couldn’t be sure.

Looking back up at the hotel as he was about to turn left onto the sidewalk, his eyes found their room – one of the few with their lights still left on at this time of night – and then he turned back around and continued walking. He didn’t find a park (what kind of town didn’t have a park?!), so he just kept walking, making sure he knew exactly where he was, and how far away he was from the hotel.

After some time (the one thing he _wasn’t_ keep track of as strictly) his phone gave a soft ‘ping’ as he got a text. Probably from Sherlock.

_John, I’m sorry. –SH_

So, he was right. He gave a half-smile down at his phone. He wasn’t mad. Not anymore. Sure, he was a tad hurt, but it was Sherlock. His Alpha. It was just how Sherlock was, and he was well used to not allowing Sherlock’s harsh words to affect him too seriously for too long. Before he could form a response, another text came through.

_Come back? –SH_

John gave a full smile this time.

_Of course. 10 mins. –JW_

Turning around on his heel, John made his way back to the hotel, hurrying slightly. Perhaps ten minutes was a bit of an exaggeration, but, you know, better to over-shoot it than undershoot. He made it back to the hotel in just under seven minutes.

He tapped lightly on the door, having forgotten his key. Good thing Sherlock was inside. He took a moment to look down at himself. Still no huge belly. Not yet. He looked up just as Sherlock opened the door, and watched as the detective’s eyes scanned down his body, before stepping aside to quietly let John in.

John gave Sherlock a small smile as he walked in. That bed looked extremely tempting right now, and John didn’t really have the will power to resist it. Giving a long yawn, John padded over to the bed, toeing out of his shoes and socks as he kept his back to Sherlock as he stripped down to his boxers, and then put on his sleeping top. Okay, so maybe he was showing a bit, but it could easily just be mistaken for tummy flab. A baby bump was rounder than tummy flab, but he wasn’t sure if Sherlock knew that, or if he even cared, but still. John didn’t wanted Sherlock to think that he was gaining weight because of laziness.

He used to just sleep naked with Sherlock, but he felt self-conscious with the gained weight from the baby. He glanced over his shoulder at Sherlock after his sleeping shirt was firmly in place, immensely glad that it was loose on him (for now). “Coming to bed?” he asked as he turned to face Sherlock.

“There’s something different about you,” Sherlock murmured, probably to himself. John hid his smile.

He clambered into the soft bed, snuggling down under the sheets, his head poking out the top as he stared at Sherlock.

Sherlock stared back at him for a few moments, before sighing, shutting and locking the door before stripping down to nothing and joining John in the bed. Long arms wrapped around him, and John smiled contentedly as he turned and snuggled into Sherlock’s naked body, eyes closing happily as Sherlock rested his cheek on John’s hair.

*.*.*.

Okay, so John was actually terrified of telling Sherlock. It was irrational, and completely stupid (he knew for a fact that Sherlock wanted a family of his own, and now John was giving him one) but that was pregnancy for you. Two months since that hotel night, and John was racing after Sherlock on the street. He was showing a lot more now. A small bump, to be sure, but considerably larger than before. John had had to buy bigger jumpers and shirts to hide it. He didn’t know why he was so scared of telling Sherlock – it wasn’t like he could hide it forever, anyway.

Puffing, John steadily dropped behind Sherlock. Eventually, he just gave up, and stopped altogether, bending over and resting his hands on his knees. Not quite so fit with this pregnancy, he noticed wryly. He probably shouldn’t be exerting himself so much, but he was sure that it wouldn’t hurt their baby.

He looked up in time to see Sherlock spinning around and striding towards him, clearly edgy. “What are you doing, John?! We have to catch him!” Sherlock called, annoyance in his voice.

John waved a hand. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you,” he told Sherlock, taking deeper breaths.

He made a slight face as the baby turned. It was like its father, John often thought fondly, it didn’t like to be restrained in one position unless it was its choice. He saw the conflicted emotions on Sherlock’s face.

The urge to go after the criminal and leave him here, and the Alpha side of Sherlock, demanding he make sure his Omega was okay.

He waved a hand insistently at Sherlock. “I’m fine. Go catch him,” he told Sherlock with a half-smile.

Sherlock hesitated for a moment longer, before nodding sharply and spinning, racing off.

He knew Sherlock would force him to talk about this later, but for now he just concentrated on getting his breath back. He straightened and placed a hand on his belly, feeling warmth shoot through him. Five more months, and they would have their very own family, just like Sherlock wanted.

*.*.*.

When John made it home, Sherlock was already there (of course he was), pacing the flat. He looked up as John came in.

“What happened?”  Sherlock demanded, striding over to him, eyes scanning over John’s form, hands going to John’s hips.

John shrugged. “Just out of breath,” he assured Sherlock.

Sherlock frowned. “You smell different,” he started slowly, eyes capturing John’s, “you wear clothes to bed. You eat more. You sleep more. You rest more. What’s going on, John?”

The look in Sherlock’s eyes was concerned, and John stepped forward and leant against Sherlock, head on his chest and eyes closing. “I’m pregnant,” John muttered into Sherlock’s shirt.

Sherlock stiffened as if he’d been electrocuted, and pulled away from John, staring at him intently. “Pregnant?” he repeated, and then frowned in concern. “Is the baby alright? Boy or girl? Are _you_ alright? Do you need to eat more? You shouldn’t go out alone anymore. Scratch that, you shouldn’t even be going on cases anymore!”

Sherlock’s ceaseless questions surprised John, and he leant up to kiss Sherlock quickly to shut him up. As brilliant as the man was, he could be extremely tiring. “The baby’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t know the sex – I thought a surprise would be better. My eating is fine,” John listed off, trying to answer all of Sherlock’s questions. Then, he frowned. “As long as I don’t exhaust myself too much, I can still go to cases! And, besides, I can hardly see _you_ going to Tesco’s.”

Sherlock sighed, and pulled John back into his body, head coming down to rest on John’s. “We’re having a family,” Sherlock murmured, happiness clear in his tone.

“We are,” John agreed warmly.


End file.
